


magnet to another magnet to another

by weird_bird (2weird4)



Category: Batgirl (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: F/F, Future Fic, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 12:33:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15000977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2weird4/pseuds/weird_bird
Summary: “Cass,Jesus Christ,” she exclaims as she pushes open the window.“Batman, actually,” Cass corrects, making Steph snort as she pulls her ridiculous wife off the windowsill and into her arms.





	magnet to another magnet to another

**Author's Note:**

> only warnings i can think of are allusions to their canon backgrounds. otherwise this is...soft.
> 
> title from ["i was married"](https://youtube.com/watch?v=EFlDqAd0f70) by tegan and sara.

A sharp rap on the windowsill makes Steph jump. Holy crap! Grabbing for the staff stored between sofa cushions, she squints outside. Black forms move out of the dark, then shape into--

 _“Cass,_ Jesus Christ,” she exclaims as she pushes open the window.

“Batman, actually,” Cass corrects, making Steph snort as she pulls her ridiculous wife off the windowsill and into her arms. Why did they even bother buying a condo with a door?

Smoothing her hands down strong biceps, Steph looks up at her face. Not that there’s a point--Cass kept the full-face cowl. “How was patrol?” 

Cass pulls her arms around and from under her cape _(wow,_ she forgets how spacious it can be under there), withdraws a huge bunch of sunflowers.

They might be married, but Steph’s heart still flutters like she’s sixteen when she takes the bouquet from her, beaming. “You walked into a florist's dressed like that?” she asks even as she fingers a sunshine-yellow petal.

“Scarecrow,” Cass explains. “Then I made...a detour.” She sort of leans her mouth against Steph’s forehead, which makes Steph groan and rip the cowl off her head because Batman kisses through Kevlar might be sexy out in the night, surrounded by moonlight, here at home after a long day, she’d just like to kiss her Cass, thanks.

After she’s finished kissing her breathless the way running over rooftops never makes her, Steph draws back, tracing the outline of the yellow bat on Cass’s rising-and-falling chest. Then she leans against her, free arm coming around her body and squeezing tight. “If you’re hurt, I’m gonna kill you.” 

Cass shakes her head, so Steph relaxes into her, twiddling the bouquet back and forth in her hand. 

When her hand slides down the tough stems, she notices that the flowers are twined together by a bolas and shakes with laughter in her arms. “This--” She waves the flowers in her face. “I could knock someone out with this.”

“Right?” Cass seems pleased with herself. “Also--” Twisting, she draws her other hand out from behind her back and presents her with a brown paper box, tied _not_ with a bolas but a pretty ribbon.

“What, is it my birthday?” It isn’t, is it? Fuck, she thinks, they’re getting old. She drops her arm reluctantly from around Cass to pull apart the silky bow and pop open the lid. “Shut up, it _is_ my birthday.” It’s a gorgeous fat cupcake topped with a cap of purple frosting and a chocolate medallion stamped with the name of her favorite bakery. 

“It’s not your birthday,” Cass says, shrugging her muscled shoulders under the heavy cape, “you’re my wife.”

For _that,_ Steph almost throws away the dessert trying to jump Cass. “So you walked into a _bakery_ dressed like that.” Her laughter loud, Cass’s almost-silent, Steph tosses sunflowers and cupcake onto the coffee table (which she’s normally so careful with because shit, they have a _coffee table,_ like the real adults they are) and tumbles them both onto the couch.

Steph helps Cass out of her belt and her boots and everything til she’s down to sports bra and boxer briefs, then draws her into her side. Rubbing her scarred thigh, she drops her head onto her shoulder. “I needed that.” She sighs, admits, “Or maybe just you.” She lifts her head, and Cass kisses her firm and sweet.

“You’re doing good work,” Cass tells her, pushing her hair behind her ear and running her fingers down through it before she cups her face. She kisses her again, almost pointedly. _”Hard_ work.”

“I mean, I made it this far, didn’t I?” Steph tips her head back. “Ugh.”

“You’re making it.” Cass kisses her lips, then bumps her mouth down to her neck to mumble, _”Doctor_ Brown.”

That makes her grin despite herself. It’s a tired grin, though. This week, it seems like the Leslie Thompkins Free Clinic is bringing no one anything but grief. Getting out there every day, seeing what she escaped and so many haven’t--it’ll never not be painful. Steph grinds and it grinds her down. Like everyone she grew up with, like the girl she grew up from, she doesn’t give herself a break. Cass has to be that for her, and she’s definitely that for Cass. “Seriously.” She sits up and scrutinizes her. “No injuries?”

Cass spreads her arms wide, which conveniently puts her completely on display. Still makes Steph sweat to see her stretch and flex like that, tough and delicate at once like no one else, and Cass _knows._ “You can check.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “Doctor Brown.”

“I just _might,”_ Steph says, lightly pinching the soft skin over her hard abs, “Mrs. Brown.” Steph wonders sometimes about Cass shedding a vestige of her fucked-up childhood and shrugging on a marker about the shit Steph’s from. Wonders if she regrets dropping the “Wayne.” But Cass told her once that it was about nothing but belonging to each other, and never, ever could she start to question Cass’s commitment.

Cass cuddles her close, resting her cheek against her head, and Steph relaxes into her chest. 

When she shifts under her, Steph groans in protest. She cheers considerably, though, when Cass brings around the cupcake box. Splitting off a chunk, Steph offers Cass a bite.

Cass nibbles and nuzzles into her hand, smearing frosting up her cheek. Steph’s reminded so heartstoppingly of how Cass looked under the fairylights as they cut the cake that she has to lick it away and into her mouth.

And then she realizes how delicious the frosting is and sits up to dig into the cupcake instead.

Cass raises her eyebrows and shoves her stomach lightly. With a shake of her head, she licks the frosting resignedly off her own lips.

“What? It’s good cake,” Steph says defensively. 

Cass’s expression is fond, Steph can tell, and the hand that pushed her with so little force pets her instead, massaging her side. 

With pleasure and without grace, Steph polishes off the cupcake. And does share. Some. 

Picking up a sunflower, Cass bops her nose.

Steph’s nose wrinkles as she sets down the emptied and sticky box and adjusts herself on her lap, fluffing up Cass’s cowl-flattened hair. 

Cass bops her again.

Steph mock-glares and pins her wrist to the couch. “Batghoul.”

A grin spreads freely over her features. “Tomorrow.” Cass wriggles her fingers and somehow manages to hold her hand, and yeah, she’s as annoying as she’s always been, and Steph’s as in love as ever. “Come out with me.”

She swings their hands up together and smudges a kiss at the corner of her mouth. “I’ll think about it.” Cass is gonna hate it immediately--she says anyway, “You don’t need Spoiler anymore.” It’s not insecurity. It’s a fact. Cass is terrifyingly efficient and bewilderingly compassionate. Sure, they’ve got the family-slash-team-slash-family, but she’s really, super got this.

Cass for-real glares up at her. “Never don’t need you.”

Smoothing her brow with a thumb, Steph smiles. “Guess I shoulda seen that one coming.” Sighs, settles into her. 

“Shoulda.” Cass strokes down her back and slips her hand companionably under her shirt.

Steph closes her eyes. The living room’s a disaster, the Batsuit all over the floor, probably frosting on the table, petals shed everywhere they won’t see til morning light. They're not clean freaks. Anyone who comes over knows the friends-and-families deal with condo cleanliness (it’s a raw deal). Besides, there’s tomorrow(s). She whispers, “Guess I knew.”

Cass’s thumb tip-toes over the old scar across her stomach, and Steph doesn’t flinch, just kisses her cheek when she holds her waist. She’s been thinking about their scars, that they bear and that they’ll earn, _especially_ that one. About their future and how roomy it looks. 

In the breeze, the thick curtains part reluctantly, just enough to blanket them in moonlight.


End file.
